


Autumn Zephyr, Roseate Dawn

by ryukoishida



Series: Hum of the Swords [3]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, PWP, awkward sexytimes, rōnin AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5390072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleepless nights often lead to sparring sessions in the courtyard; this, in turn, inevitably leads to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn Zephyr, Roseate Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of the rōnin AU from SouHaru Week Day 3. I guess it’s becoming a mini series now, hah.

It’s the third time this week – sleepless nights that inevitably lead to exhausting but satisfying swordsmanship sparring sessions amidst the gently swaying foliage of the Tachibana courtyard under the waning moonlight.

 

Afterwards, with sweat on their brows and limbs aching just a little, they drag their fatigued bodies back into their sleeping chambers. Their blood still hums from the adrenaline of their exchange, and it loosens their restraint, their boundary blurring just the slightest. Warm, calloused fingers linger along the inner wrist, just a touch too intimate; their breaths hitch and hearts flutter, like petals of cherry blossoms flickering in the wake of the wind’s waltz.

 

Usually, Sousuke would take this chance to pull him into his own room, and they would share a kiss – the urge to touch more, to do more to the man in his arms swelling like the sea under the pull of the moon.

 

Usually, Haruka would let him, but never allowing them to cross that certain line.

 

Plum-coloured bruises from kisses that are more biting than gentle under the collarbone, hidden by layers of clothing.

 

Red welts from desperate fingers dragging down against milky skin.

 

It’s gradually becoming a routine – a habit – and neither swordsman has the desire to break away from it.

 

Even with the foreboding footsteps of winter straying closer and closer, as the vibrant green of summer days transforms into golden crimson at the peak of autumn, and the season bringing with it its veil of crisp, chilling nights and constant, misting rain, Yamazaki Sousuke and Nanase Haruka will always find themselves engaged under the solitary light of the moon, their swords crossing in a cacophony of a youthful, passionate refrain.

 

“Sorry about that,” Haruka is saying as he wraps a strip of bandage around the teal-eyed swordsman’s bicep, which bears a long graze that has ceased bleeding after Haruka has meticulously cleaned the wound and dabbed on some ointment. His skin is marred by many, many scars from his past – some seemingly more recent than others, puckered pink flesh on lighter patches of beige - and Haruka wonders about the stories behind each and every one of them, wonders if there will be a time when it’s acceptable for him to ask.

 

“Accidents are bound to happen sooner or later when we start playing outside in the dark like this,” Sousuke grins down at him easily, eyes glimmering with a hint of playfulness and shoulders slackened in a state of rest as he lets Haruka finish his task. He doesn’t seem to realize that Haruka has been gazing at his scars with a quiet thoughtful expression, but when the blue-eyed man rolls Sousuke’s sleeve back down, the corbeau shine of his silk hakama darkening with the flickering of the candle light, Haruka gives him a half-hearted glare.  

 

“I hope you haven’t been using that kind of misleading language around the others,” Haruka scolds him but his tone bears no real rancour, just a tad of exasperation.

 

“Why are you concerning yourself with such trifle?” Sousuke asks, a brow arched up in genuine curiosity. Haruka is not the type to be bothered by what other people say or think about him most of the time.

 

“I don’t want any unnecessary rumours spreading around this household that might affect our team’s morale,” Haruka replies as he clears the table and puts away the medicinal items into the cabinet.

 

He doesn’t like complication – he’d avoid it at all costs – and right now, he can tell that whatever he and Sousuke has for the past half year is slowly becoming one, and Haruka is feeling less perturbed by the circumstance than he probably should be.

 

“If people are going to talk, there’s no way to really put a stop to that, is there?” Sousuke gets to his feet, detaches his twin swords from the belt around his waist, and places them on the table.

 

Haruka remains quiet, his back facing the taller swordsman and his long, ink-black locks, tied in a low ponytail, cascading down his back.

 

By the time Sousuke stops behind him, just a breath away, he’s reaching out to gently sweep Haruka’s hair over his shoulder, fingers lingering along the sensitive skin of the base of his neck, and leans forward to place a soft, barely-there kiss on his nape. His lips pull into a smug grin when he senses Haruka’s trembling frame, and he boldly wraps his arms around the slighter man, pulling Haruka flush against him.

 

“I can feel you sulking from here,” Sousuke murmurs against the back of Haruka’s neck, warm breaths moistening the porcelain skin there, and he darts out his tongue just to tease him – tasting salt like the ocean and tartness like passion fruit spreading across his palette. To his utter delight, Haruka immediately stiffens, fingers grasping tightly around Sousuke’s forearms, and a whimper unwillingly escapes from his throat.

 

“Ya-yamazaki-san…” There’s a trace of warning in his low voice, but even Haruka is aware of how his body is reacting to Sousuke’s ministrations – skin heating up in roiling waves from where they share contact, and his cheeks staining red as Sousuke continues to pepper light kisses along his neck and shoulder as one of his hands snakes up to pull the collar of his kosode to the side, sliding one sleeve down his arm to reveal the man’s lean muscles and slender bone structure that has been hidden by layers of his sea-blue awase kimono.

 

“Relax, Nanase,” Sousuke huffs out a laugh, accompanying with a playful nip to his shoulder, which earns him a satisfying, stifled moan from the other man. “You’ll get premature wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

 

“I wasn’t…” Haruka breathes out, and it’s too much – Sousuke’s teasing touches – and it’s not enough.

 

‘I wasn’t frowning,’ is what he’s about to protest, but with Sousuke so deliberately marking his back with wet, sucking kisses and insistent bites that will surely leave a splattered pattern of red and violet bruises behind, Haruka’s mind is blissfully blank and all he can manage is stay on his feet, though it is getting more and more difficult as Sousuke attempts to remove more of his clothing.

 

Haruka notes that Sousuke has once again dropped the honorific, and finds that he doesn’t mind it at all.

 

The teal-eyed swordsman lets his eyes flutter close, so that all he can concentrate on is the musky scent of Haruka’s skin and how the man is shuddering against him when his fingers lightly caress up and down his bare arm cause gooseflesh to appear as soon as the cool air touches and his warmth leaves.

 

When Sousuke’s mouth drifts close to his cheek, Haruka takes his chance to turn and crane his neck to place a kiss right on his lips; he’s surprised by Haruka’s unexpected enthusiasm, but nevertheless he responds beautifully with an appreciative hum, tongue delving into Haruka’s mouth to taste while his hand traces the line of his jaw. When they part, Sousuke, with gentle hands upon Haruka’s waist, leads the slighter man to turn around so that they’re finally facing each other.

 

Sousuke can’t help but stare at the result of his handiwork: Haruka’s lips are spit-shine and invitingly rosy and swollen, half-lidded, drunken dark eyes ringed in azure stares up at him dazedly, his cheeks and where his skin is exposed – from the column of his neck to his shoulder down to his torso – are flushed, and he’s inhaling in shallow gasps as if he’s been running nonstop for miles. One half of his kosode is completely shed, and the other half is threatening to slide off his shoulder.

 

He swallows, throat constrictively dry, at the sight of Haruka’s expanse of pale skin that leads down to the prominent jut of his hipbone, the definition of his muscles made sharper contrast in the soft orange light of the candles.

 

“Something caught your eye?” Haruka’s unpredictably brazen remark catches Sousuke off-guard, and his wandering gaze locks onto Haruka’s again. He merely grins in response, the ends of his eyes crinkling and somehow, the lines that should signify one’s aging stage only makes the swordsman who easily towers over him more charming and irresistible.

 

If his mind had been more sober, Haruka would probably tell himself to get a damn grip. Since when did he start paying attention to such shallow features like a fellow comrade’s eyes, or wondering what it would feel like to have said comrade’s arms wrapped protectively around him, or fantasizing about the kind of lewd activities that Nagisa and other rowdy young men in their security team always joke about that he and aforementioned comrade might engage in?

 

“Mm… I’ve never pegged you for having such a cheeky attitude in this kind of situation,” Sousuke comments idly, a thumb tracing reverently along Haruka’s jawline until he reaches the spot just beneath his ear, and he leans forward, breaths hot and unbelievably close to the corner of Haruka’s mouth. “Nanase, is… is this all right with you?”

 

With this meagre distance between them, it is incredibly easy for Haruka to meet him the rest of the way, but something in Sousuke’s eyes – darkened with desire but retaining a trace of hesitance that’s almost obscured – makes him pause.

 

For the past few months, they’ve never gotten past anything more than a few intense kisses, so Sousuke is still feeling a sense of apprehension whenever he wishes to do something more. He’s afraid of going too far, trespassing Haruka’s hard-set boundaries and causing them to lose what they have – a harmonized equilibrium contained within a delicate glass case of contentment.  

 

Haruka cradles the taller man’s face within his palms and ensures that Sousuke comprehends the meaning of his words, because he’s not going to say them again.

 

“Yamazaki-san, it’s fine. This – everything – is fine.”

 

Haruka swallows thickly, piercing gaze reflecting only raw honesty and absolute trust.

 

Sousuke doesn’t need any other reassurances, and with a relieved laugh – rumbling deep from within his chest – and sea-green irises glimmering bright, he dives in, leaving all traces of tension and trepidation behind. He embraces Haruka, arms tightening when he feels the whine from the back of his throat being swallowed by Sousuke’s consuming kisses.

 

While pressing insistent kisses against Haruka’s collarbone and trailing lower and lower still, the teal-eyed man continues to make quick work of removing the rest of Haruka’s kosode off, loosening the knot of his kaku obi set at the small of his back beneath the layer of his hakama so that his robe flutters down to his waist in a rustle of silk and cotton, the sleeves dragging on the floor.

 

He kneels down before the blue-eyed swordsman, gaze constantly veering upward to observe every flicker of Haruka’s expressions and skittering breath and hands bracing Haruka’s hips as he scatters wet, open-mouthed kisses along his abdomen and ribcage, fingernails occasionally grazing his sides when Haruka bites his lower lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but his fingers are digging into Sousuke’s messy locks, loosely tied low with a piece of blue cloth, and pulling on the strands when Sousuke does something that sets his blood singing and aflame.

 

“Let me hear you, Nanase,” Sousuke urges with a gravelly tone, words rough and moist and branding on the pale skin of his abdomen. He tugs the rest of Haruka’s kosode out from the constraint of his hakama and discards the garment on the floor. “Please.” He ends his plead with a sharp bite to his hipbone followed by a soothing lick of his tongue.

 

Haruka shakes his head adamantly in negative, however, his face flushing deeply and his eyes prickling with unshed tears, lips bitten so raw and red in his refusal to let out any embarrassing noises that it pulls Sousuke up so that he can kiss his mouth again, more tenderly this time.

 

“Then you leave me no choice,” Sousuke murmurs, a mischievous grin stretching across his mouth that should probably send a warning to Haruka, but at this point, he thinks he’ll allow Sousuke to do just about anything if he continues to make him feel this good. Without another word, Sousuke begins to back them both up against Haruka’s bed.

 

He turns them around so that when Sousuke sits on the edge of the bed, Haruka can straddle his lap, and through his hakama, Sousuke can feel the other man’s length hardening when he brushes his hand deliberately against his front.

 

Haruka lets out a sharp gasp, glaring down at him accusingly, though the resulting effect is weakened by the blush on his cheeks. Sousuke only replies with an innocent smile before proceeding to kiss him full on the mouth again and untie the sash of his hakama, letting the belt trail down as he unwinds the strip of material until it’s loose enough for him to slips his hand in, fingers wrapping Haruka’s erection clothed by the thin material of his fundoshi.

 

“Yamazaki-san…” Haruka trails off for a moment when he feels Sousuke palming him experimentally, lowering his head to rest his cheek on the other man’s shoulder to stifle his moan at the strange yet unbearable sensation Sousuke’s hand is causing.

 

The teal-eyed man sucks kisses along the junction that connects his neck and shoulder, his other arm wrapping around Haruka’s waist securely.

 

“Ah… W-what are you going to do?” Haruka huffs out against Sousuke’s neck, the loose tendrils of fuliginous black hair tickling his over-heated skin.

 

“Can you not venture a guess?” Sousuke replies with a smirk while mouthing the tender skin over his collarbone, and Haruka can’t stay still on his lap, not with Sousuke’s hand still inside his hakama and touching him like this.

 

The next best course of action, Haruka thinks in his mind clouded by fog of smoky pleasure and coiling tongues of heat that sits low and tight in his abdomen, is to return the favour: create a situation where they can fight on equal footing, much like how he would counter an opponent’s attack in a duel.

 

He begins to leave a trail of kisses down Sousuke’s neck, which has startled the other man into momentarily pausing what he’s been doing, and in that instant of hesitation, Haruka quickly and efficiently unties the other man’s hakama, and even though he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, he can make educated estimation as to how to go about this, and so decides that overthinking is the last thing he wants to do when he just wants Sousuke to feel as good.

 

“Growing bold, are we?” Sousuke chuckles, low and dark, and turns his face to the side, catching Haruka’s abused lips with his and kisses him until they’re both breathless and gasping.

 

As composed as he seems to be earlier, it looks like Sousuke is gradually falling apart as the blue-eyed swordsman rubs him with varying pressure, a thumb circling his tip until spots of precum wets the cotton of his fundoshi, and he doesn’t stop – those slender fingers relentless as he plays with him as fluently as he manipulates his sword, and Sousuke finds it increasingly more difficult to breathe, his chest heaving deep and inhaling fire and ashes.

 

“Not so flippant now, huh, Yamazaki-san?” Haruka’s piercing blue eyes appear before his vision, his teeth dragging on his kiss-swollen lower lip to muffle a groan threatening to tear out of his throat when Sousuke suddenly flicks his wrist sharply and strokes his length with more fervour, fist tight with warm precum slicking down his cock.

 

Haruka thinks about the mess he must have made under the folds of his hakama, and he should perhaps be a little shameful of how aroused he is by the thought. The mental image of doing the same thing to the usually composed swordsman before him sends an electrifying jolt along his spine when he pictures Sousuke coming, eyes screwed shut, his flushed cock leaking and spurting in his hand, and the man himself crying out his name, the syllables carving themselves hot and real against his skin.

 

“Speak for yourself, Nanase,” Sousuke murmurs against the corner of his mouth, though maintaining his calm tone is becoming a little more challenging as Haruka continues to make good use of his fingers.

 

“Don’t –– don’t call me that,” Sousuke hears him, a whisper exhaled against the crook of his jaw, and he has to pause, leaning back a little so he can properly look at the man on his lap. Haruka is trying his best to avert his gaze, but Sousuke is having none of that.

 

“Then what would you like me to call you?”

 

“Just my given name, when we’re like this – in private.”

 

There’s a slight tremor to his silvery tone, delicate and palpable, and when he makes a request, which is a rare occurrence in itself, Sousuke has neither the strength nor the will to refuse that soft, pleading voice.

 

Sousuke nods once, a subtle motion. He draws his hand towards the other man’s face and his thumb lightly traces his lower lip like a man enchanted, teal eyes glazed with want.

 

“Haruka…” He enunciates his name – gentle like it’s something to be treasured – the syllables crisp like the autumn evening breeze that trails in through the open window, and his lips brush against Haruka’s in a tender kiss. “In that case, if you prefer, you can call me by mine as well.”

 

Blushing from a sudden onslaught of bashfulness, Sousuke doesn’t give Haruka enough time to comment or contemplate on that statement, and he re-establishes the rhythm of his hand on Haruka’s length while holding him close – close enough for their heartbeats to synchronize, close enough for their moans and broken words and unspoken sentiments to melt together, close enough that if Sousuke dares to open his eyes, Haruka is all he can see at that fleeting moment.

 

It’s close enough to hurt – that lack of distance where Haruka is breathing into him, desperate for release, Sousuke’s name tasting sweet yet fragmented on the tip of his tongue. It’s a kind of suffocation when they join together like this, limbs tangled and breaths mingling in sparks, but Sousuke thinks that he might be strangely content with that.

 

When Haruka comes, he shudders violently in Sousuke’s lap, gasping his name in a ragged whisper as he spills into his hand, sticky and hot. He rests his head against his broad shoulder while he recovers, his frame still trembling from his climax, but his fingers are wrapped firmly around Sousuke’s cock, stroking him with a tight, warm fist.

 

“I made such a mess because of you, Sousuke,” Haruka leans in by his ear to tell him, knowing precisely what his words and the images they conjure in his head will do to the teal-eyed man, and exactly as he has expected, Sousuke swallows hard at Haruka’s pronouncement and pushes himself against his hand for more friction. “It’s only fair if I get to do the same to you…”

 

“Haru –– ka, please…” A gruff, ruined growl drags in gravel, and the way he utters his name makes Haruka crushes his mouth against Sousuke’s in a deep, messy kiss, and he comes just like that, Haruka’s name half-swallowed by frantic kisses and his fingers leaving lines of red and half-moon impressions scattered along Haruka’s back.

 

-

 

By the time winter arrives in full strength, cladding a cloak of white snow and silver serenity on its frigid but majestic shoulders, it is not unusual to see two figures darting around the Tachibana courtyard with swords in their hands and movements as elegant and nimble as ethereal creatures.

 

Everything remains the same.

 

Yet on some sleepless nights, when the sky is washed in a shade of greyish-scarlet and the town is cleansed by a blanket of fresh snow, the same two men can be seen standing close, their hands clasped together as they watch the world pass by in this constantly changing silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow ok so I didn’t plan to write this, but I feel like I need to write some sort of ending for them in this AU, so uh, here you go! Also, if you couldn’t tell, I did too much research on Japanese traditional clothing while writing this; you have no idea how hard it is to figure out how to take everything off and having it make sense…


End file.
